Within the Heart
by Nara Dinaer
Summary: She was a servant of Rivendell, he was a guest. She walked the inner corridors, he walked the outter. She despised him, he was intrigued. Could circumstance bring them together? (Maybe, maybe not!)
1. Rain on a Clear Night

Author's introduction: The prelude is a little slow, but I beg of you to read it… I haven't had anyone pre-read this, and I could use some help with it, if anyone's interested.   Anyway, enjoy…  
  
  
Within the Heart  
Prelude  
Rain on a Clear Night  
  
She welcomed storms only because she despised silence.   There were times when she could sit in the dead void of her room, which was really no more than a cell behind the Elvish walls of Rivendell, and hear the quiet tick of the grandfather clock below her in the great dance hall.   Ticking, ticking, ticking…and it drove her mad!   The rain drowned out all of that, however, as well as the light voices and soft laughter that echoed in the outer corridors during the day, particularly in the twilight hours. She especially hated their singing, as well as their simple appreciation for the life that she so despised.   Tonight, the rain had saved her sanity.  
  
She should have appreciated their generosity, their pity, and the second chance that they had given her. Should have, but didn't.  She resented everything that had brought her there: poverty, death, vulnerability, and revenge.   By rights she should have been executed, and perhaps she would have preferred it that way, for life's servitude was a sentence that could often be more painful.   There were too many hours in a day to think, though it was not as if she wasn't busy.    
  
Elves had returned to and repopulated Middle Earth long after the destruction of the One Ring had occurred.   Most had flocked to Rivendell, but others dwelled in the forests of Mirkwood, and fewer still occupied the Druadan, Forlond, and Fangorn woodlands Others still roamed the lands and lived where they pleased. Yet, four times a year the Elves congregated at the palace of Elrond for elaborate celebrations of the seasons   
  
The servants of Rivendell stayed out of site as much as possible. Behind the beautifully carved or painted walls of the palace was a maze of narrow, dimly lit corridors, which provided the servants with an "invisible" passage throughout the castle.   The headmaster and headmistress ruled the servants with a set of iron fists, and below them, their charges were dividedinto four classes:  hand servants, the most well dressed of the employees, who served as personal attendants to Elrond and his guests, cleaning the private suites of the palace; kitchen servants, adorned in white or black, cooked and cleaned in the kitchen all day; outdoor servants, in their sturdy, dark attire, tended to the gardens and stables; and the lowest of the serving class, common servants, cared for the large public rooms, passageways, and whatever other painfully difficult tasks their masters could come up with.   She, herself, was a common servant.   At least she _had _been a common servant, until just recently.   
  
A shortage in service and an overabundance of elves had forced her into the headmistress's office that very morning.   "Ma'am," she bowed her head to alert the older woman of her presence.  
  
"As you know, the week of _Ehtele' mele_ is upon us, as of tomorrow," the woman began, getting right to business.   Everyone knew this, of course, for the preparations for the spring equinox, the coming of spring, had been going on for weeks on end.   "Elrond's guests are to arrive at first light in the morning. A few are scheduled to arrive this evening."    
  
She had already grown impatient, wishing to be out of the office and busy with her usual chores. She didn't doubt that she was about to be burdened with an extra set of stairs or a particularly well-trodden hallway. The headmistress continued, "Your duties will have to be increased, for the time being, to suffice for the amount of guests staying within the palace I have a list of the services we willrequire of you right here," she was handed a pale envelope, crested with a cherry wax seal, but didn't open it. The headmistress asked, "Do you understand?"  
  
Right.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," she bowed at the waist and started for the door.  
  
"Your new wardrobe will be sent to your chamber immediately Please see to it that you dress properly for your new duties."  
  
She stopped; turned around. "I beg pardon ma'am," she balled her hands into fists at her sides, "New wardrobe?" she didn't like the ring of the words in her ears.     
  
"Of course, a new wardrobe," snapped the headmistress, "We can't have you attending the guests in the current rags you call clothes."  
  
She bit back anger, struggling to steady her tone, and swallowed several smart remarks, "Attending?"  
  
"Do you not have ears with which to hear me?" the headmistress's voice raised another notch in anger, her cheeks flushing.   "Of course you will be attending.   The duties we will expect you to perform are listed in that letter."  
  
She looked down at the envelope only to avoid an angry woman's glare.    "Yes, ma'am.  I'm sorry, ma'am."  Her hands shook, and though she desired to rip the letter to pieces and throw it at the headmistress's feet, she restrained herself long enough to raise her face back to the other woman's, and calmly say, "I will see to it that my new duties are completed with perfection."  
  
This satisfied the old wench, "Good, then.   You are dismissed."    
  
The ordeal had left a bitter taste in her mouth, particularly when she tore open the letter to discover the extent of the tasks thrown on to her.   Now, aside from the original list of common rooms she had been assigned to, she was also faced with two of the private suites, and a small portion of the garden.   Given, she would have more work to keep herself occupied and her mind clear, but she did not appreciate the idea of having to work so close with the elves.    
  
She knew the inner corridors of Rivendell, and had memorized the Elvin language in secrecy.   A lifetime of surviving by taking what she could from her surroundings was now serving her quite well, though it didn't stop her from despising it.     
  
One of her new room's tenants arrived in the early afternoon, shortly after she had learned of her allegiance to the new portion of Elrond's palace.   Ignoring the headmistress's warning, she had not taken the time to change into one of her new uniforms before hurriedly rushing to tidy the first of the suites.   She was polishing the elegantly carved nightstand when he unexpectedly entered the room, and she snapped up straight to see him.     
  
For one devastatingly long moment they simply stared at each other He was fair, as were all elves, tall, and beautifully sculpted.   High cheekbones, delicately braided pale hair, and piercingly blue eyes marked his features. Regardless, it was fear that laced through her stomach.   She straightened her shoulders and set her jaw, "I'm sorry," she spoke calmly, her voice low and melodic, "I'm nearly finished here.   I'll be only a minute more."   
  
He said nothing, but watched her silently as she continued her task.   The hairs on her neck stood on end as she felt his eyes on her body, and she hastily finished her chores. She exited the room with barely a farewell, and then raced to her chambers where she allowed herself to shake with fear and a birthing anger.     
  
Snatching up the envelope from the place she had haphazardly tossed it on her bed, she turned to the second page of the letter and silently read the name that she had overlooked before.    
  
Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood.  
  
She knew of him, of course. There wasn't a single person within miles that hadn't heard of the handsome, former member of the One Ring's fellowship.   Never had she expected to be his personal attendant.   What now, what now?   She suddenly felt very ugly, displeased with herself for having not taken the time to change into the new uniform.    
  
Touching the soft, green material that was spread over the bed, she wondered at her new job.   Why had she been assigned this horrible duty? She glanced at the letter again, reading the other name printed in that bastardly fine, elegant script.     
  
Sir Cassius Neverwinter of Mirkwood.     
  
The name meant less authority, but no less of a threat.   A sudden hatred towards the headmistress for assigning her these two male elves plagued her.   _Why, why, why? _But there was no answer, and nothing she could do to change the situation.   It was, after all, only one week… She kept the thought in mind as she undressed and slipped into the cool material of the green uniform.     
  
She had been instructed to deliver the prince his supper to his room, that evening, for the grand majority of Elrond's guests had yet to arrive, and no banquet was prepared. The scents on the tray smelled far lovelier than any of the food that the servants were fed.   She knocked softly on the door, for she had been warned that loud knocks were not acceptable.  
  
Surprisingly enough, no call came from within, and the Elvin prince opened the door himself.   "Your supper, highness," she acknowledged him, and was surprised yet again when he did not move aside for her to bring the tray in, but took the tray into his own hands.   
  
Thanking her, he turned away and set the tray on a desk. As she stepped back and started to leave, he spoke again.   "Excuse me," she turned back, hoping he made no ridiculous requests of her service, for it was indeed late enough to be carrying dinner trays.   It irritated her that he waited for her not only to turn around, but also to walk back to the doorway before he spoke again.   "I'm sorry to have upset you earlier."  
  
Could he possibly surprise her any more, she wondered?   "Upset me?" she reiterated, having not expected him to catch any wind of her fear.    
  
"You appeared to be somewhat thrown off by my appearance," he continued, his voice a velvety quiet. "You must not have been expecting me for at least another day, I'm sorry."  
  
Almost shivering under his gaze, she let the words sink in a moment, and decided that his assumption would be good for her own alibi, "It's no problem, my lord," she dipped into a shallow bow, "The suite was to be in perfect condition for today regardless."   
  
"I see," he responded with no change to his tone, and she stepped back to make her escape once again. "Miss…" he trailed off until she turned back once more, "I wasn't given your name…?"  
  
If she looked at his eyes a moment longer, she feared she would be pulled into them and trapped inside forever.   "Elleura, my lord," and she did shiver.   One step backwards, then two. He turned away from her and she was finally able to escape into the elaborate hallway.   When she reached her chamber, she cried.     
  
The isolation of her room brought her no comfort.   From time to time, the singing voice of a passing elf could be heard as they strolled through the outer hallways.   When the sky opened up she was intrigued, for it had been a clear night.   There were no windows that gave her an image of the outside world, but one skylight above her.   The storm pounded on the roof, and the moon slipped into hiding.    
  
She sat up for long hours into the night, seated cross-legged on the center of the floor. The room was thick with darkness, and she was visible, even to herself, only when lightning dared to slice through the air and crack the sky, forcing flickers of light through the skylight.   She was waiting, as she did every night, for a peace that she had gradually began to accept would never come.   She hated to be alone, hated to think.   Thinking usually brought back memories, and memories haunted her in a terribly painful manor. Tonight, though, his face and voice plagued her.  
  
Lightning cracked the black sky, momentarily illuminating her still form and the rest of the room. She thought she saw him standing there, and held her breath as she waited for another flash of light to prove her mind's trickery.   Rain pounded on the roof like an army of orcs beating down the door.   She relished in the noise, letting it take her far away from Middle-Earth, to a place where no past or present haunted her. It was there that sleep finally discovered her.     
  
  
  
Closure note:  I will accept (and enjoy) comments and suggestions, and I'll entertain any questions. ^_^  Please feel free to express yourself.   Do you think the Legolas/Servant thing is too over done?   This is my first ever LotR fanfiction…  



	2. Intrusion of the Heart

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone who has reviewed so far! I came home and my mailbox had seven review alerts and I was so happy! I wanted to answer a few questions, though:  
**Alessia**: Elleura was promoted so quickly because of the Spring Equinox celebration, and then number of guests attending. It's only a temporary promotion. I thought I mentioned that somewhere, but I will go back and check.   
**alora+legolas*forever**: Elleura's origins will be explained in the future ^_~ Ahhh suspense.   
  
  
Within the Heart  
Chapter One  
Intrusion of the Heart  
  
The air of Rivendell had always seemed crisper than that of Mirkwood, but then again, that might have just been because he so far away from home. Regardless, he indulged in taking deep breaths as he stepped into the cool air of morning. Rivendell truly was Heaven on Earth.   
  
The archery field, as always, called to him. Archery had always brought him a sense of content, since his youth, and having had more than a millennia's practice under his belt, every arrow he sent flying struck its mark. For nearly an hour he splayed arrow after arrow into various targets.   
  
On the edge of the field, Legolas sensed some being's footfalls, and with an arrow ready to be released, he scanned the distant horizon. From far off a voice called out, "Legolas!"  
  
A smile touched the archer's lips. "Here, Cassius!" his friend appeared, striding quickly towards him, a plump, dead rabbit grasped by the ears in his left hand. "Toss it into the air, Cassius, and I shall pluck it out."  
  
As Cassius neared, he smirked, "Are you showing off for me, Legolas, or trying to impress some hidden Lady?"  
  
"I'm getting rusty, and I need a moving target," Legolas grinned, almost boyishly, and aimed his arrow at Cassius's midsection, "Unless you'd like me to practice on you. In that case, my friend, you'd best start running."  
  
With a hearty laugh Cassius threw the rabbit towards the sky, and Legolas smoothly followed it with his aim, releasing his arrow just as the hare began to fall, piercing it true and straight as if he was not free-falling at all. With satisfaction, Legolas smirked at Cassius as the moving target thudded to the grass, "Do you fetch, too? I've been looking for a good hunting dog."   
  
Next to him now, Cassius slapped his friend on the back companionably, "Legolas, I'll admit that you are the best archer I know, but if you want me to start playing puppy for you, well, you'd better keep on dreaming."  
  
The two elves gathered up the scattered arrows and the bunny corpse, and started towards the towering palace of Elrond. The flowers seemed to bloom around them, and the trees were green with healthiness. At the edge of an apple orchard, a woman's cursing could be heard. Quietly strolling around the trees, Legolas spotted Elleura tangled in the branches of one particularly cluttered tree.   
  
"Shit," she reached for an apple at the end of one branch, but her fingers weren't quite long enough. Adjusting herself so that she could hang further out, she stretching her entire body towards the shinning red apple. Legolas and Cassius watched silently, speculating the scene. Just as her fingertips managed to grasp the apple, her balance tipped and she fell around, shrieking, to hang off of the branch, upside down. The elves had to stifle a laughter, but Elleura didn't seem to notice them, the entirety of her concentration dedicated to that one, shining, red piece of fruit. For a second she dangled on the branch, then timidly let go, with one hand, to reach for the apple. The branch groaned beneath her, and she cursed aloud. After pausing only a moment, she reached again. Her fingers just barely brushed the skin, and the branch cracked. With a scream, Elleura, the branch, and the apple all plummeted into one of the rose bushes. Her curses became more intense, and the elves couldn't help but pour out laughter.   
  
She leaped up from the bushes and glared at them. "Oh, and you would just find that so funny, wouldn't you?" she snapped, unable to control her fury. The two elves struggled to silence their humor, and commenced to staring at the young, flushed servant girl. Her auburn hair was a ruffled and awry, floating in little tendrils around her face. Her azure eyes flickered with a mixture of annoyance and resentment in a threatening, almost deadly, glare. "Clumsy little servant girl, a class or two below us superior elves, she can't even get the apples out of the tree! She's not tall like us Elves!" The trouble causing apple had been clenched tightly in one fist, and her nails bit through the skin. Now she threw it angrily into the basket, which she had been using to collect her apples. "I bet you're thinking, that I should be better at this job because I'm a servant, and I've probably grown up a servant and done this my whole life, but let me tell you something, _my lords,_" she dropped into a mocking curtsey, her words bitter and full of rage, "If you dare to think so, you're wrong! In fact, this is only my second day as a gardener! So if it pleases you to laugh at me, go right ahead, for surely I must do all I can to please _my lords_," she hissed, again, "But please do me the favor of doing so _out of my presence!_" And with that said, she picked up her basket and stalked off through the trees.  
  
When she was out of ear shot, and for that matter, out of their Elvin sight, Cassius let out a howl. "That's a fox," he snickered. "Outgoing. Fierce, for a gardener."  
  
"She's not just a gardener," Legolas reached easily for an apple and shined it against his sleeve, "she's my room attendant. I guess this explains why she was so surprised when I walked in my room, yesterday."   
  
Raising an eyebrow, Cassius glanced at his friend, "She's your room attendant?"  
  
"Yes," Legolas replied, and there was a soft shushing crunch as he bit into the red fruit, "She might be yours, too."   
  
At that, Cassius let out a humored snort, "Should be interesting. She's not half bad looking."  
  
"When I entered the room," Legolas continued, paying no heed to his friend's comment, "She was wearing some sort of black smock, like the servants you see only on occasion, but later on that evening, I saw her again in an attendant's uniform. She must have only been assigned to the job yesterday."  
  
"What's your point, Legolas?" Cassius began trudging back towards the palace, following the path that the servant girl had taken.   
  
"It's curious," trailing behind, Legolas spoke more to himself than to Cassius, "I always thought that servants were born into the profession, and kept the same jobs their whole lives. It's that way in Mirkwood."   
  
"Maybe it's not that way _here_," Cassius was growing impatient with his friend's interest in the working class. "It doesn't matter so much, does it?" but Legolas only shrugged, continuing to ponder in his own silence.   
  
The celebration of _Ehtele' mele _didn't officially begin until sun down, but the palace itself was alive with festivity by the time they reached it. The sun was hardly above them in the sky, but already guests were roaming everywhere, greeting and chattering with each other. It wasn't long before Cassius and Legolas were washed into separate crowds, and all thoughts of Elleura were pushed from the prince's mind. A youthful girl approached Legolas and introduced herself as Thoerinn, and the "engaging" conversation that she led him into was mostly a game of twenty questions about the Fellowship. She enjoyed explaining how much she _admired_ and _respected_ him, and how he was _so handsome_, but he was effected little by her flattery. In fact, he was rather annoyed, for it was nothing that he hadn't heard before, over and over again when the tale of the Fellowship had become known. She _was _pretty, and she _did _have a nice smile, not to mention a soft laugh, and a wink from Cassius across the room told him to humor her, so he did.   
  
When the sun bowed to embrace the horizon, the true merriment began. Elves that were normally scattered all over Middle Earth had were now gathered in the great banquet hall. Rumors went around the table with the appetizers, that the feast had been prepared for more than a day. The ceiling was high above them, but domed in such a way that any echoes chatter were bent and quieted. Under each long window stood an attendant, vibrant in their robes and dresses of deep wine burgundy, sapphire, ebony, or hunter green.  
  
She was uncomfortable in the wide open room, with lights shining down on her as if it was still noon. Two days ago at this time, she might have been tormenting herself in the darkness of her chambers. Now, she tormented herself in the brightness of the dining hall. The dress she was wearing, long folds of crimson satin, was low cut in the front and made her feel very uncomfortable. Most of her new uniforms were that way, all modeled after the one another but in different colors, and she hated them, preferring her old, more comfortable robes of when she was a common servant. She was disappointed with herself for the way she had acted in the orchard, for as she later found out, the second elf was Sir Cassius or Mirkwood. Outbursts were an old habit that she needed to get over, and the tactic of holding grudges was even older.   
  
There had been a time when she had to be able to zone in on a man up to a mile away. She used that tactic now, to focus on the Elvin prince and his friend as they laughed and dined at the table. To any of the elves or servants, it might have looked as if she was watching for any need of her service, though in reality she was taking them in: analyzing and categorizing them into the part of her memory that she had once used only for her profession. They held strength above her the highest, and she didn't doubt that their methods of combat were more honed and skilled than her own had ever been. It was one of the reasons that she had despised elves for most of her life, especially those of the male gender.  
  
  
From the entrance of the room, the headmistress signaled for the attendants to serve the main courses of food. Elleura's body automatically slipped into motion, though her mind remained focused on the elves.  
  
He thought that if Thoerinn continued her bantering for much longer, his ears might fall off. He had concluded, even before they had arrived in the great dining hall, that she knew more about the fellowship than he, himself, did. A temporary relief washed over him when the attendants brought the rest of the food out, for surely she would not continue her prattle as she chewed.   
  
  
Elleura set a plate cluttered with food before Legolas and the scent wafted up to greet him. He allowed his eyes to follow her as she moved to Cassius. His friend smiled up at her, muttering some compliment or joke. She forced a smile in response, but Legolas could see the suspicious anger in her eyes. Had she truly been so upset about the incidence in the garden?  
  
  
"Legolas, hello?" Thoerinn waved a hand in front of his face, switching into the Common speech for the first time since she had introduced herself to him. "_Lle tyava quel? Anta yulna en alu?"_  
  
"No, I'm fine," he answered her query and refused the glass of water that she had held up to him. She flashed him that beautiful smile and lapsed back into another steady stream of complimentary Elvish. He had been wrong about her chewing techniques, and found himself disgusted and slightly sickened as he got a live lesson on how food was broken down by the teeth in one's jaw. A queer wistfulness in him regretted that she and Elleura had not reversed roles. He pushed the thought out of his mind only because it wasn't proper.   
  
Legolas was thankful when dinner was over, and even more so when others began to retire to their rooms for the evening's rest. Thoerinn took in her hands his forearm and tugged him towards the door. "Would you care to walk me to my room, Prince Legolas?" she gave him that smile, and pleading eyes that made it difficult for him to even consider a refusal.  
  
"I'm sorry," he began, laying a hand on hers and sliding her pale fingers off. "I've a matter of great importance that must be discussed with Cassius."  
  
"Oh, then I can-"  
  
"Confidentially," he interrupted firmly with a lie before she could persuade him to let her stay. I dark look of understanding and disappointment clouded her face as she nodded and stepped away. Legolas watched her as she walked briskly from the room, though she didn't neglect sending a long, sad-eyed look in his direction before stepping out.   
  
With Thoerinn gone, he noticed for the first time that other elves were talking amongst themselves. He set a target across the room and began to walk forward, and several of those who recognized him nodded at him with approval or sympathy. But it wasn't Cassius he went to. Instead, he took a long drink of water, and sat down again at the table. Thankfully, no one approached him, and he enjoyed a peaceful, much-needed loneliness as the other guests dispersed and spread more evenly throughout the palace.   
  
Only a few stragglers remained by they time he stood again, and he took note of the few attendants remaining to watch over their specified guests. Near a statue of the former Elvin princess, Arwen, Elleura waited with her shoulders squared and chin erect. Legolas approached her with vigilance, and he noticed her flinch when she realized where he was headed.   
  
She met his eyes cautiously, as if testing water to see if it was too hot or cold. Setting her jaw, she decided to say nothing, and waited for him to speak. There was a tense moment and nothing, at first, was said. He admired the way she held her ground, her eyes narrowing at him guardedly. "What?" she finally snapped.  
  
It shocked him, as if she had thrown some pebble at his face. He blinked once, twice, as his consciousness swam back to reality, and then he spoke, "I wanted..." his voice trailed off as he tried to figure out exactly what he wanted to say.   
  
She interrupted for him. "Would you like a drink, _prince Legolas,_ or perhaps you would like me to turn down your sheets and put a flower on your pillow, or for that matter, why not an _apple?"_  
  
Her anger was evident, and he was nearly speechless. "I wanted to say," he began again, "I'm...sorry," he finished, his mind racing. "We didn't mean to laugh, and we didn't know that you were so recently promoted. I suppose you might have liked some congratulations, or something of that sort."  
  
It was her turn to blink, and he noted some evident flicker of change behind the barrier she kept up. "In that case," her tone had dropped, softer and more apologetic, "I suppose I, too, owe you an apology, for my pathetic burst of anger. On that note, good prince, I bid you goodnight." She curtsied, stepped aside, and began her brick retreat.   
  
"Wait," he called after her, softly, but she made no hesitation. He followed her into the hallway, gaining on her because of his long legs. "Elleura," he caught her attention and she turned.  
  
"Your grace," she fought hard to keep her voice from wavering. "Is there something you need?" There was that look of fear, again, and he found his heart stabbed by the sword of guilt. He caught up to her, but his throat felt as if it had been swabbed by cotton. He hardly recognized his own hand when it rose and floated near her face. She took a long step back. "My lord, if there's nothing you need, I have other duties I must see to."   
  
He wanted to come up with something to persuade her to stay, he wanted to know more about her, but nothing came to his mind. "I'm sorry to bother you, then, Goodnight."  
  
She hurried away without glancing back. He watched her closely without moving a muscle, intrigued by her sudden changes of emotion. Just as he was about to take a step after her, she disappeared. There was no corner, and the dark hallway stretched a long way onward where she had not yet gone. He looked in every direction, but there was no door and no window. "She was right here," he muttered to himself, "And then she was gone."   
  
  
  
Behind the locked door of her chambers, Elleura let herself sink to the floor, her breath heavy and ragged. She hadn't had the patience to wait for the Elven prince leave; she hadn't had time to wait for him to turn and walk a way. The urge to scream, "Leave me be!" had risen and her throat and had threatened to escape beyond the gate of her mouth. She was safe, now, safe behind the locked door of her dorm. It was dark, as it should be, and she took solace in the factor. Exhausted with fear, she collapsed on her bed, and let a tear slide out from beneath her eyelid. Sleep soon overtook her. The dream was not a restful one, and the clouded faces of men swirled around her.   
  
_She was drowning, drowning in her fear. It was dark in the closet, where was mommy? Why hadn't mommy hid inside with her? There was movement beyond the door, loud thuds and louder shouting. "Where is she? Where is the bastard child?" The voices were overwhelming. She started to cry, but curiosity pulled an eye down to the keyhole. Blood on the floor, men around mommy. What where they doing? Was she screaming in pain? One pushed her down, and then they surrounded her. Mommy was screaming, mommy was crying. Why was she denying them, whimpering for them to stop? The voices smeared together and mommy's sobs choked into one scream. She knew it was bad, but she couldn't control herself any longer. Out of the closet she ran.  
  
_Elleura woke with a scream.  
  
  
  
Closure note:  I will accept (and enjoy) comments and suggestions, and I'll entertain any questions. I'm glad that so far you have enjoyed this fic, and I hope that the second chapter hasn't turned anyone away. What did you think of it? I've been trying hard to keep Legolas in character, am I too far off? Thanks again...  



	3. Full Moon Forever

Authoress' note to the general public: Again, thank you everyone for your reviews, I am much appreciative! I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long to be put up! For a while my computer was down, and then I decided to rewrite the entire chapter, because I didn't like how it was going. So this is just a short, filler chapter . . .Enjoy! Sorry about the delay!  
  
A lot of people have asked about Elleura's origins. I'll tell you this much: She is not an elf. But if you want to know the real story, you have to wait for me to write it. And since she's not an elf, she doesn't have to act like one! Also, her name can be pronounced (ella-yoor-a) or (ell-YOOR-a). I prefer the latter, myself.   
  
And now on with the story . . .  
  
Within the Heart  
  


Chapter Two  
  


Full Moon Forever  
  
  
Stabbed, scorched, pierced . . .There are many ways to be hurt. Elleura had been burned by her past. The scars of yesterday had never faded, and she lived with their terrifying memories day by day. She could see the scars when she looked into the mirror, though there was no evidence of singed skin or charcoal smudges. Her pale face and haunted eyes said enough. A lack of restful sleep had begun to take its toll on her. No matter how hard she tried, she could not escape the nightmares. Injuries were supposed to heal . . .but living each day alive was only adding salt to the wound.   
  
For years she had pushed the memory of her supposed family and the history of herself aside. She knew that she was the reason of her mother's murder and had tried to make up for it. Her vengeance had brought her here. She should have been executed; should have been, but wasn't. For some reason the elves of Rivendell had taken pity and sent for her . . .and for some twisted reason, the Men had released her.   
  
As much as she was loath to admit it, she took solace within the Elven palace. Away from all of the terrors of Men, she kept herself busy within its walls. And when the memories snuck up and tried to break her . . .for the most part, she had been able to suppress them. It had never been difficult before, as a common servant, to hide herself away when she felt entirely too upset to deal with the world. Now, faced daily with two male elves, she couldn't seem to keep a firm grasp on herself.   
  
Moonlight poured through the skylight and washed over her face as she moved to the center of the room. Looking through the glass, she studied the stars. Amongst the diamonds, she could see her mother's eyes smiling down at her. An instinctive decision had her dressing in her old black smock of a dress and slipping out into the inner halls. Her room had suddenly become stuffy and unbearable, and an urge to see the stars overtook her.   
  
She padded softly down the dull corridor, listening carefully for any clues of night-wanderers roaming the outer halls. When she was confident that no one was beyond her part of the wall, she found a place where she could slip through and pushed. The coolness of the night air surrounded her, and she filled her lungs with it. A soft breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders and kissed her cheeks. 

Making her way over to the elegantly sculpted trellis, she gazed up at the stars in wonder. The sky was so black, so massive . . .she felt as if she reached towards the moon, she would be pulled up and swept away into oblivion.   
  
She kept this in mind as she stretched her entire body towards her fingertips, feeling as though the edge of nowhere was just beyond her grasp.   
  


  
He found her standing much the same way, frozen as if captured in a painting, her arm extended, her eyes looking heaven-ways, her features as calm and motionless as if she were a hand painted doll. She didn't notice his exceedingly soft footfalls until it was too late to run, and by then he had already committed several seconds to his memory. But she didn't move; she didn't turn or snap at him. She didn't fill with anger or annoyance the way she had earlier, but simply ignored him. She didn't want him to be there, so, in her mind, he wasn't. It was that simple.   
  
Until he spoke.  
  
"The hour is late," his voice was a velvet sigh as always. The overall tranquility about her this evening only thickened his curiosity. 

"What are you looking at?" he pondered aloud, choosing to skip standard formalities.  
  
"Yes, it's late," she replied belatedly. The extended hand melted back to her side, but still she did not turn; her eyes remained fixated on the stars above. She continued, "And for that reason, I wonder: why have you not retired?"  
  
He blinked once, twice, and then refocused on her words. "I enjoy the evening air," he honestly answered. "The season of spring is upon us, but I appreciate the lingering scents of winter."   
  
She smiled, then, and it was the first time he ever saw that painted bow of lips curved across her face: soft, pale, and peaceful. "You speak poetically, your majesty."   
  
He stepped forward, joining her at the railing where he could see the blanket of stars. If he noticed the way her shoulders tensed, or the way the peacefulness fled from her eyes, he said not a word. 

For a moment, no one spoke. Together, yet separately, they found comfort in the natural chandelier above them. The full moon winked at them as ragged clouds passed over. All of the world's beauty was pulled into that one moment. 

"Are you waiting for someone?" the glassy silence shattered all too quietly.

For a moment she felt hazy, as if she was unsure as to whether or not he had really spoken.  "Yes," she paused.  "No…"

He raised an eyebrow at the sky.  "Yes?  No?  What do you mean?"

"My mother," the air she breathed suddenly felt like jagged shards of ice, "The stars remind me of her."

Realizing that he had intruded on a moment more personal than he'd initially thought, he could only respond with, "Forgive me."  When he turned to look at her, she shied away, shifting both her vision and her weight in the opposite direction. 

"Elleura," he spoke her name in a whisper, all threats and fierceness banished away to some foreign place. Reluctantly, she returned her gaze to him, finding the act of focusing on his eyes to be both impossible to do and even more so not to. No additional words were spoken, and a silent bond of trust was built like a bridge between them.   
  
It was impulse that had him slowly bringing is fingers to her pale cheeks, illuminated by the glow of a full moon. It was instinct that had her flinch, but she fought the urge to pull away. 

"I will not hurt you," he assured her, and she allowed the faintest look of relief to polish her face. His fingers were cool, but not like ice. They radiated the feeling of tranquility back into her heart, just as she had felt before he rippled the waters of her soul with his presence. 

They became another painting, motionless and bathed by the moonlight.  She backed away only because she realized that she had let her guard down, though part of her desired to remain in that stilled image.  Her eyes could not leave his; morning skies locked on sapphire oceans, so close, yet so far away.  
  
"Legolas!" the high, bubbly voice echoed down the halls and to the trellis, shaking both prince and attendant out of their trance.   
  
Legolas heard the shout before the ever-so-soft patter of footfalls was remotely audible.  "Thoerinn," he let a sigh escape the gates of his lips. Turning to offer Elleura a smirk, he whispered, "It is going to be a long night," and then swiftly bent to touch his lips to her forehead; yet another act of pure impulse. "Get some sleep."   
  
She felt her face flush as she backed away, one foot stumbling over the other, unsure of what thought was most overpowering as millions flooded her mind. She took off down the hall just as Thoerinn arrived, all smiles and giggles, waiting to lure Legolas into a sea of compliments and repetitive flattery. He painted a welcoming smile over his features, ready with an excuse about slipping away to enjoy some of the midnight's peacefulness. It was, after all, exactly what he had been doing.   
  
Not so far away, tucked behind the safety of Rivendell's inner corridors, Elleura collapsed onto her bed. Overtaken by exhaustion, she slipped into the sea of dreams, filled with pointed ears, blue eyes, and cool lips.  It was difficult even for her to determine whether she was tormented, or at peace.  

Close chapter:  So what does everyone think of this chapter?  I know it's short and that I'm late in posting, but things have been hectic lately (sorry!).  Any thoughts on what's going on between Elle & Legolas?


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